Tell Me About Tomorrow Until it Doesn’t Exist | Forest of 5 Paths Short Story Contest Winner

Cursed Tree

By Rachel Leitch

“Brynjar!”

      I steer my toboggan off to the side of the hill, where I knew Brynjar’s toboggan would careen in five, four, three . . .

      His partner, Jorgen, dashes down the slope after the toboggan, slipping, sliding, calling out instructions.  Brynjar lies unconscious and half buried by the crates and bottles he was transporting to the outermost settlements.

Three, two, one.

      As the toboggan speeds by me, I grab the frayed rope and pull it off into the snow drift next to me. Brynjar tumbles from the sled and into the snow.

      My partner, Lis, leaps out of our sled, pulls him out, and brushes him off. “Brynjar? Can you hear me?”

      Jorgen skids in next to me. “You saved him, Elin.” His breath freezes in the air. His gaze travels down the infinite slope to the ravine at the bottom. “He would have crashed into the trees. Died or drowned in the creek below before anyone could get him out. It was almost like you knew.”

Not almost.

      I lift the sled’s rope in my hands and shove my thick blond braid back under my stocking cap. “I’ll take this back with my load. Get it fixed. I’ll send a med sled out for you both.” I’d have to take my load back to the cabins. No deliveries meant no cash for today.

That was alright. I knew that, too.

#

      I take off my coat and drag it behind me to cover my tracks. No one else needs to get any bright ideas and follow me out here.

      I weave my ways through the trees, a path that I know by memory. And there it is. A completely ordinary tree. No different than thousands of other birch trees in this forest.

Except for one thing.

I step up and run my hand over the bark.

      The branches tilt slightly. The trunk stretches as if letting out a long yawn. And words begin to scroll across the bark.

      It’s pretty strange, I know, but this tree tells me one thing that will happen in the day each morning. That’s how I knew Brynjar’s sled would wreck. And where I needed to be to save him.

The words finish scrolling. I blow snow off the bark.

Today you die.

I lean closer. The words don’t change. I brush my glove against the bark again.

The words don’t change, and no new words come.

Only those three.

Today you die.

How? When?

      This outpost has already lost far too many medicine runners. And no one else is signing up to join us. The villages need me.

And if I’m not here . . . I’m the only one who knows this tree is here, how to read it.

How many people will suffer or die if I’m not here to read this tree?

      I have to do something to stop it. But how do I stop something when I don’t know what will happen?

#

      As I walk back to the village, I think of all the ways that I could die out here. Unfortunately, there are plenty of options.

A drift collapse.

Sinking in the snow.  

Losing control of my sled like Brynjar did yesterday.

Crashing into the river and drowning.

Losing my way out in the fiord and freezing to death.

      Any of those could happen at any time. For heavens’ sake, I could trip on my own boot and hit my head just right!

“Morning, Elin.”

I mumble back a good morning and walk into the wind.

      I can’t go anywhere today. No deliveries. No camp duties. I have to hole up in my room in the cabins and keep an eye out for anything that might want to destroy me.

After all, what good will I do anyone if I’m dead?

Lis is just coming out of the cabins when I arrive. “Elin? You’re not working today?”

I shake my head.

“You’re feeling well, yes?”

      I nod again. Normally, it’s Lis who’s mute. When she came to the cabins, she didn’t even speak the same language as anyone else. But she could read better than anyone else, so she found her way into our community very quickly. And the language came from there.

“Just a little cold,” I lie. “Thought it was better to stay home than risk exposing other workers or getting distracted on the trails.” Both things that could result in death. “Let the supervisor know for me, will you?”

“Perhaps I should stay as well. Just in case you need help.” Lis’s brow furrowed.

      She wouldn’t be the way I died, would she? How could she? “No, I’m fine. Just make sure they know why I’m not there.”

      She pursed her lips. “If that’s what you need.” Lis stacks the final crate aboard her sled and sets off down the slopes towards the villages. I quickly curl up in my shelter and stay there.

      The hours pass by like the drips of an icicle. I don’t even dare read the books Lis taught me how to read for fear I’ll miss someone breaking into the cabins, or releasing poisonous gas, or something.

      And with nothing else to do, I worry about Lis. I’m her partner. I should be out there with her. What if she needs help on her shift and I’m not there?

But what else can I do?

#

“Elin!”

Somehow, I must have dozed off.  Luckily, it doesn’t kill me.

“Elin!” Someone bangs on the door until it pushes in.

I grab a nearby walking stick in case I need to defend myself.

It’s Jorgen. “You have to come. No one knows what to do.”

“What? What’s happening?”

“It’s Lis.”

My walking stick lowers slightly. “What happened?”

He takes a long breath. “Lis . . . Lis is gone.”

The walking stick clatters to the ground. “What do you mean?”

“Her sled slipped. She fell through the ice. We tried to save her, but we couldn’t cut through the ice in time.”

      If I had been there, I could have gotten her out in time. That’s the reason every medicine runner has a partner.

I lean against the wall of the shelter. And I curse that tree.

Only deep inside, I know it’s not the tree’s fault. It’s mine.

Maybe that’s what the tree meant after all.

      I shove past Jorgen—out of the cabin and into the blowing snow. The other workers are dragging Lenora’s sled back. I dart right past them and into the woods.

With an ax over my shoulder.

      I’m going to end it. That tree won’t tell me anything else. Won’t ruin any more days for me. Won’t take anyone else I care about.

I can’t be trusted with this power.

      I follow the memorized path. I can let it fade from my memory now. Don’t need to worry about my footprints. I’ll never come here again. I heft the ax as high as I can and strike at the base of the tree.

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

Over and over until the tree topples with a mighty crash.

I stand over it, chest heaving.

And the final words flicker from the tree trunk.

You have another chance.

Congratulations Rachel!

I love this twist you added to the prompt. It works well, plus it contributes to a great and well-written theme. The setting of a winter forest is also a nice touch and adds something special to the story!

I also love how you subtly hinted at the cursed tree at the beginning of the story with Elin counting down until Brynjar's crash, and also when she thought "not almost" when Jorgen comments on her saving Brynjar.

It was well done and established the setting, characters, and main crux of the story all at once! Communicating many things in a few sentences is a difficult skill but you did it wonderfully in this story, which made it so captivating to read.

Thank you for sharing this story with us Rachel! Although short, it was still a complete, touching, and meaningful story with a clear beginning and complete ending.

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